


A Soft Touch

by feroxargentea



Category: Master and Commander - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feroxargentea/pseuds/feroxargentea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 2011 perfect_duet kinkmeme for the prompt: <i>"Can we get some femmeslash? Diana showing Sophie how sex can be pleasurable :D"</i><br/>Pretty much what it says on the tin :-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Soft Touch

“What, never?” Diana raised herself on one elbow and stared at the shadowy form beside her. “Really, Soph? Not even once?”

Sophie’s expression was indistinct in the darkness, but the reluctance in her voice was clear enough. “I can hardly suppose that Jack would want... would want his wife to show an interest in that sort of...”

“Pfff, and you are to be thinking all the time of what Jack would want? Have you never considered what you might prefer? Oh, don’t wriggle so, Sophie, however embarrassed you are. The bed is not big enough if you are going to wriggle.”

“What I...?” Sophie trailed off. “Oh, I don’t know. It seems so very... And what would the men think if they knew we even spoke of such things? It is not in the least...”

“Seemly?” asked Diana, with a sly poke at Sophie’s arm. “Ladylike? Let us be thankful, then, that no one can hear us here. We can say what – ever – we – like,” the latter words punctuated by further pokes.

“God can hear us,” Sophie said, her piety slightly undermined by her giggles.

“Ha! Much may it profit him, and all eavesdroppers. But Soph, have you truly never once felt anything, any sort of pleasure?”

Sophie turned to face her, so that the faint moonlight from the casement caught her puzzled frown. “Oh, well, I...” She cleared her throat. “I suppose it was not so unpleasant at first, before the children. Before George, in particular. The confinement, you know, and the, the scarring. Well, but, it is... it is so messy, and not very... that is to say, not entirely dignified, and... But of course it is lovely to see one’s husband happy.”

“You poor soul, does it hurt you?” asked Diana, squeezing her hand sympathetically.

“No. Well, only a little. Not so as I cannot bear it.” Sophie hesitated. “Does it... should it not hurt? Mama warned me before my marriage that things might be a little uncomfortable, and I supposed – after the wedding, that is – that she must have meant the... the act.”

“Your mama is a monstrous great fool, and it is a damned shame that girls should be raised in such ignorance, a shame and a disgrace. You know perfectly well she talks the merest piffle about the relations between men and women, as about everything else. You need not shake your head at me, Sophie! You know it is true, even if I must always be the one to say these things.” Diana grinned at her, and then spoke more seriously. “The act, if that is what you like to call it, need not be painful. And I do not believe for a moment that you are any less capable of pleasure than other women, even if you did have a difficult confinement, or two difficult confinements.”

“Perhaps.” Sophie turned away from her again, and her next words were muffled by the pillow. “But it is of no consequence, in any case.”

“Why, because you can just lie there as you do every night, even when your dear husband turns up? Bah! Well, I am not going to sit around like Patience on a bloody monument waiting for Stephen to sail home, let me tell you.”

“Diana!” There was genuine shock in Sophie’s voice. “You cannot mean... and if you do, it is hardly appropriate to tell me...”

“Oh, do not get yourself all of a tizzy. I do not mean to disgrace you all by permitting myself the comfort of other men’s company, not this time.” Diana smiled a conspirator’s smile. “You see, here is another thing your mama never told you, Soph.” She lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper and pressed Sophie’s hand. “We do not need men for pleasure. There, the secret is out.”

Sophie’s form, swathed in bedclothes and still turned away, shook with a suppressed giggle. “I am not listening.”

“Of course you are not! Such impropriety! I shall just talk to myself, fa la la.”

“Di...”

“You are not listening, my dear.” She ran a finger gently along Sophie’s arm to her shoulder. “Not listening, and not feeling, either. That is the only ladylike way to behave.”

“Di-i...”

“What? You must never allow a man to touch you, is that not so? Does this feel like a man’s touch?” She trailed a fingertip up Sophie’s neck, to the delicate angle of jaw and earlobe.

Sophie said nothing, but in the hollow of her collarbone the ruffles of her shift rose and dipped with her pulse, and her breath was coming more quickly.

“There, dearest, it is your own touch, nothing more.” Diana traced Sophie’s ear and around the blurred outlines of her face. Her fingers trailed feather-light across Sophie’s lips for a moment, and then she leant in and very gently kissed the back of her neck. “Your own lips, as soft as yours,” she murmured.

Sophie sighed, stretched out, and settled back into much the same position as before, the motion of the bed bringing her a little closer to Diana.

Carefully, Diana lifted away a lock of hair that had fallen across Sophie’s face, smoothing it back. Then, with a touch so light it barely skimmed the light cotton of Sophie’s shift, she ran her hand slowly, very slowly, down the slope of Sophie’s ribs, into the dip of her waist, and up around the high flare of her hip, a curve made more generous by the way she lay half-curled on her side.

“Is it not... is it not wrong?” Sophie whispered, very low.

Diana snuggled closer still, curve matched to curve, and pressed soft kisses on her shoulder, her ear, her cheek, into her hair. “Does it feel wrong?” She reached up, brushing very lightly as if by the merest accident across Sophie’s breast, and took Sophie’s hand in hers.

Sophie pulled Diana’s arm tightly around herself, their interlaced hands held tightly to her chest. “Di... Di, would you... would you show me?”

Diana, her face buried in Sophie’s hair, her own breasts tightening against Sophie’s back, smiled into the darkness, a smile composed of amusement, affection, and satisfaction in equal measure.

“Of course I will.”

She loosed her hand from Sophie’s grip and caressed Sophie’s fingers with her own.

“Will it... Are you quite certain it will not be painful?” Sophie whispered.

“It is only your own hand, Soph. Your own body,” Diana replied, in the most patient, soothing tone she could manage. “You would not hurt yourself, would you now?”

“No.”

“Well then, silly-o.” She felt Sophie’s fingers relax in hers and some of the tension drain from Sophie’s form.

“It is all so... It does not... We could just go to sleep,” Sophie muttered, still turned away, facing the wall.

“We could indeed.”

“You would not mind?”

“Sweetheart, I would not mind in the least. Go to sleep if you want to.”

For a minute Diana lay still, listening to Sophie’s breathing, comforted by the regular rise and fall of Sophie’s torso against hers. Then she felt Sophie’s fingers stroking her own, and she smiled to herself, a smile all the wider for knowing she could not be seen.

“Are you not sleepy, Soph?”

She kissed the back of Sophie’s neck, and her cheek, as close to her mouth as she could reach, eliciting a little sigh of pleasure. Then she brushed her hand across the front of Sophie’s nightgown, drawing circles across the cotton as it lay stretched over the curves of Sophie’s breasts, feeling the thin fabric bunch under her touch but ignoring the cause, keeping the movement swirling and unfocussed, until Sophie whimpered.

“What?” Diana murmured. “If you want something in particular, you have hands of your own.”

“Di-i...”

“No one will see you, Sophie. No one will know.”

She drew her hand slowly down Sophie’s chest, down past the tiny dip of the cloth over her navel, across the swell of her belly to the hollow of her pelvis, and in a wide curve around her hips. Then she reached down and inched up the hem of Sophie’s shift as far as her thighs, slipping her hand underneath, humming with satisfaction at the touch of skin on skin. With one fingertip, she traced a line up the inside of Sophie’s thigh, around in another wide arc, and down the other thigh, over and over, until she felt Sophie huff with impatience. She laughed softly.

“What? Is it painful?” she asked, all innocence.

“Oh! You are a tease.”

“I am a tease. You love me all the same.” But she relented, narrowing the arc until her hand dipped into the curls between Sophie’s legs; narrower still, and her fingers were gliding over bare flesh that was damp with sweat and need.

Sophie rolled a little towards her, crooking her legs a bit further apart. Diana began to draw tiny lazy circles with one fingertip, unhurried, stroking with the lightest of pressures, waiting for Sophie to shift further, for that slight flex of the spine that would press her shoulder and hips back against Diana’s.

When, with a soft murmur, Sophie did exactly that, Diana shifted her own legs to support her and hold her gently. She let her fingers stray into the moisture between Sophie’s thighs, smoothing it up over the skin, pressing slightly now with every stroke, matching her movements to the slight rocking of Sophie’s hips.

“Tell me if it is too much, or if it hurts,” she whispered, her mouth against Sophie’s neck.

“No! Oh... oh, it does not hurt.”

“Good.”

The motion of her hand was faster now, with a longer stroke, pressing in a little, just a little; but Sophie was breathing hard now, and beginning to writhe with impatience. Diana slid her other hand down between their bodies, under Sophie’s buttocks, curling round and up until the tips of her fingers rested against the wetness there.

“Do you–” she began.

“Yes! Just...”

The breath was hissing between Sophie’s lips. She whimpered and arched her neck, twisting her face as far around to Diana’s as she could, and Diana kissed her hard, biting at her lower lip. As she touched her tongue to Sophie’s, she parted her with one finger, pushing in up to the knuckle, the slick moisture making little resistance. Sophie gasped, and they lay joined but still, for a long moment. Then Sophie reached down and gently pressed Diana’s hands harder against herself.

“Please,” she whispered.

Diana began to stroke her again, not so softly now, with a rhythm matched to the thrusting of her other hand, whose finger she angled to caress the most sensitive part. For a moment she withdrew, making Sophie moan, but Diana merely shifted her hips so that she could reach further, and then pushed in with two fingers, and then three. Her own need was obvious, her thighs beginning to slide against Sophie’s hip as they rocked together, but she had no touch to spare for herself as she rubbed and thrust at every grind of Sophie’s hips. Sophie was panting now, and starting to keen aloud; Diana kissed her again to hush her, stroking faster and faster as Sophie rocked against her. Sophie’s legs were tensing, her body arching further and further. Suddenly she stiffened and cried out, and her body jerked in Diana’s hold and clenched in rapid waves around Diana’s fingers.

Diana held her until she stopped shuddering and lay quiet, gasping very softly.

“Sophie? Sweetheart? Are you crying?”

Sophie took a shaky breath, and Diana realised that she was not weeping but laughing, the vibrations seeming to reach through her body and right down to Diana’s fingers, which linked them still.

“Was it... was it not...” Diana tailed off, as tentative now as Sophie had been earlier.

“What I expected? No. No, it was not. Ohhh...” Sophie’s breath hitched as Diana withdrew, and then she wriggled around to face her. For several seconds she lay motionless, her expression ambiguous in the moonlight. Then she reached up and cupped Diana’s face, leaning in for a long, slow kiss.

“Diana?” she whispered.

“Yes?” Diana could feel Sophie’s lips against hers widening into the broadest of smiles.

“Thank you.”

Diana laughed. “You ninny. Go to sleep.”

“Should I not, well, that is, do you...?”

“Go to sleep, Soph. I will still be here in the morning.”

Sophie raised her head a moment as if meaning to protest. Then she tucked it into the angle of Diana’s neck and shoulder, sighed contentedly, and within a minute fell fast asleep, fast asleep until morning.


End file.
